


It's time to go

by weasley86



Category: Happiest Season (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Coming Out, Drinking, F/F, Flirting, Mild Angst, Riley is a whiskey snob and you can't convince me otherwise, Romance, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasley86/pseuds/weasley86
Summary: All of this was to say that she felt for Harper, she did. But it didn’t excuse anything. When Harper had dropped her off at the hotel on the edge of town, she had immediately called John and talked it over with him. John was right - every story is different. But it’s not her fault if she wants someone who is on the same chapter as her. She’s not even asking for the same page - just the same general area of the book.Not someone who is four chapters behind the major plot twist.AU where Abby says "I'm not going" and actually means it.
Relationships: Abby Holland/Riley Bennett, Abby Holland/Riley Johnson
Comments: 40
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

  
_sometimes giving up is the strong thing  
sometimes to run is the brave thing  
sometimes walking out is the one thing  
that will find you the right thing  
-taylor swift, “it’s time to go” _

__

__

  
  


“I’m not going.” 

And that was the end of it. Abby had made up her mind and she was done talking about it. She was absolutely not going to play the role of the straight, orphan roommate for the weekend. She just wasn’t going to do it. She had more self-respect than that, and she didn’t want to be with someone who was going to put her in that position. 

If Harper had been truthful from the beginning, everything would be different. It’s one thing to be scared to come out. That’s understandable. It’s another to have been lying to your partner for the last six months and willfully bring them into a situation that could only end badly. 

It had been a long time, but Abby hadn’t forgotten what it was like to come out. 

Abby had come out young, or what had seemed like young fifteen years ago. She was fourteen when she told her parents. She remembered her heart racing and the way her sweaty palms felt against her baggy jeans. She remembered saying those words that you can’t take back. She remembered tears falling and her mother pulling her into her arms, her father rubbing her back. _Of course we still love you. You really thought we wouldn’t?_ Most of all she remembers that intense feeling of pride that came when she was alone in her room later, breathing deeply, and feeling whole for the first time. 

It had probably been years since she had officially ‘come out’ to anyone. It was normally casual, at a party, introducing Harper as her partner, or telling a funny story about her weekend plans to her students and mentioning her girlfriend.

She didn’t really have to do it that often, these days. She wasn’t sure if it was her wardrobe, her hair or her general don’t-fuck-with-me attitude, but she didn’t find herself coming out all that often. People just assumed. 

All of this was to say that she felt for Harper, she did. But it didn’t excuse anything. When Harper had dropped her off at the hotel on the edge of town, she had immediately called John and talked it over with him. John was right - every story is different. But it’s not her fault if she wants someone who is on the same chapter as her. She’s not even asking for the same page - just the same general area of the book. 

Not someone who is four chapters behind the major plot twist. 

* * *

Abby had picked the Oxwood because of the rainbow flag she could see hanging above the bar. If this small town had anything close to a gay bar, this must be it. 

She was tired and alone and if she was being completely honest with herself, she just wanted to get drunk enough to forget the past twenty-four hours. Abby grabbed the only spot left at the bar, ordered a beer and prepared to settle in for some serious self pity. She reached for the pint glass the bartender had just slid in front of her and - 

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Abby had moved just too quick and caused her beer to overflow onto the bar and all over someone’s hand. Someone’s pale, delicate hand with long fingers and short, unpolished nails. The hand shook the beer off with quick, clean movements. 

She managed to swallow her embarrassment enough to look up at the face of the woman she had spilled on. _Fuck, she is gorgeous._ Long dark hair, fitted blazer. Full lips. She eventually made it up to her brown eyes, which were currently filled with laughter at Abby’s delayed reaction. 

“No harm, no foul. If you’d gotten it on my shoes then we would have had a problem.” 

“Fuck, I didn’t, did I?” Abby panicked, glancing down at her own beat-up Iron Rangers and the pretty girl’s shiny boots. 

“Hey, no, I was totally kidding. You barely even got me wet,” the girl smirked. _Is she flirting with me?_ “You need to relax. Can I buy you a shot?” 

“Um, no, no, totally not necessary. I’m the one who spilled on you,” Abby took a breath, closed her eyes, exhaled and reopened her eyes to see the girl staring back at her with an amused look on her face, “Sorry. I’m not normally this much of a mess.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to come on so strong,” the woman stuck out her still wet, slightly sticky hand, “I’m Riley. I’m visiting my parents for Christmas and I’m lonely and bored and slightly starved for human conversation. Can I buy you a shot to go with your spilled beer?”

Abby chewed on her lip for a second and considered her options. _What the hell, might as well._ She shook Riley’s hand and smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Abby. I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

Riley motioned to the bartender, “Two shots of Fireball, please. Both on my tab.” 

The heavy-handed bartender poured two overflowing shots of cinnamon whiskey and Riley picked them both up, handing one to Abby. “To new friends,” she said with a half-grin. 

“Cheers.” They gently tapped the glasses together and threw back the shots, maintaining eye contact. Abby grimaced and stuck her tongue out, “I’m sorry, that shit is terrible.” 

Riley raised an eyebrow, “Are you insulting Fireball? The drink of frat boys everywhere?” 

“To be fair, I don’t normally do shots - I’m more of a beer and sipping whiskey kind of girl.” Abby raises her voice slightly, competing with the noise of the bar and the Christmas music playing through the speakers. 

“Me too, actually. But you looked like you needed to loosen up and quick,” Riley took a sip of her beer (a hazy New England IPA, Abby noted - _her taste in beer is better than her taste in shots_ ) and motioned towards the door, “Are you waiting for someone?” 

“No, no. I’m not from around here, I was just looking for somewhere to get drunk by myself,” 

“Sorry, I can take a hint -” 

Abby cut her off, “No, I realized how that sounded. I’m sorry, I’m having the worst day and just can’t seem to get out of my own way.” Abby resisted the urge to thump her head on the bar. 

Riley drained the rest of her beer and motioned to a booth that was emptying, “I’m going to run to the ladies’. You’ve got two choices - you stay at the bar and drown your sorrows alone or you grab us another round and meet me in that booth. No expectations, no judgement.” 

Abby wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she walked into the Oxwood, but meeting someone was definitely not it. Meeting someone she was attracted to was even lower on the list. Meeting someone she was attracted to and seemed to have some kind of instantaneous chemistry with? Rock bottom. 

Of course, none of this was what she had planned for her Christmas away from Pittsburgh. She had thought she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Harper, but now she wouldn’t even want to share the car ride back with her. _Who even was that person?_ And thinking back on it, a year is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. 

She signaled for the bartender and ordered two more IPAs. 

What the hell. It’s Christmas, after all. 

* * *

Abby is waiting in the booth and Riley slides in like they are old friends who have done this a thousand times before. 

“So, what do you do when you’re not spilling beer, Abby?”

“I’m finishing up my PhD in art history at Carnegie Mellon.”

Riley looks suitably impressed, “Art history, wow. I took one art history class in undergrad and it was way over my head. I mean, I love art, but my brain just isn’t wired that way.” 

“I think you have to be a special kind of obsessive for it. Willing to stare at a single painting for weeks at a time, fixate on a chipped piece of pottery,” Abby shrugs. 

“What will you do once you’re officially Doctor Abby?” 

“I’m hoping I’ll be Professor Holland, actually. I’ll be job hunting soon and I’m hoping to stay in academia. I like teaching, so I’ll probably end up at whatever college will hire me. I’m hoping somewhere on the east coast, but you kind of have to go where the jobs are.” 

“I get that. Match Day is similar. You open an envelope, cross your fingers, hope for the best and a piece of paper decides your fate.” 

“Match Day? Are you a doctor?” 

“Yep. PhD, MD… You and I are the same, just a different special kind of obsessive,” Riley motioned between the two of them, “I’m a surgical resident. I’m in the middle of my fourth year of residency at Johns Hopkins.” 

“Wow, no wonder you have such nice hands,” Abby’s eyes got huge as she realized what she had said. 

Riley let out a short laugh and flexed her long fingers in the air, grinning, “With these hands, I was born to be a piano player, a surgeon or a dyke. I have no musical talent but the other two seem to be working out for me.” 

Abby let out a genuine laugh, “That’s a good line. I’m sure you use that one on all the girls.” 

“Just tried it out on you. You’ll have to let me know later if it worked.” 

Abby could feel the heat rising as a full-body blush broke out. She bit her lip.

Riley took pity on her and continued, “So if you’re at Carnegie Mellon, you must live in Pittsburgh. What are you doing in this shit hole of a town?” 

“Well, I was supposed to be visiting my girlfriend’s family.” 

“Okay, well, that begs the question... why are you at a bar talking to me?”

“Um, it’s kind of a funny story that’s actually not funny at all.” 

Riley raised an eyebrow and took a swallow of her beer, “You have my full attention.” 

“Okay… I was supposed to be spending Christmas with my girlfriend and her family. But as we were driving here, we got into a huge fight,” 

“It’s not Christmas without some family drama,” Riley said. 

“Family drama I can handle. This was next level. My now ex-girlfriend admitted to me that she hadn’t actually come out to her family yet. Which, I guess, would have been fine, if she hadn’t been lying to me about already having come out. But that’s not even the end of it. She wanted me to pretend to be her straight roommate who she is bringing home for Christmas only because I’m technically an orphan, which is true, but not something that should be used against me in some maniacal Christmas scheme straight ouf a Hallmark movie. Can you believe that?” 

“I’m sorry, pause this story for a second, who on earth would believe that you’re straight?” 

“My friend John said the same thing. Come on, I’m not _that_ gay,” Abby paused and cocked her head to the side, “Am I really that obvious?” 

“You’re wearing Red Wing Iron Rangers. Your blazer is from Wildfang. You’re sitting in a gay bar, and even if you weren’t, you’d still have that big dyke energy. Don’t take offense, I mean every word as a compliment.” 

Abby dropped her chin to her chest and looked herself up and down, “Yeah, okay. I’m super gay. And I’m a terrible liar. It would have been a mess.” 

“Would have been? So you never even made it to her house?” 

“Nope,” Abby said, popping the P, “We fought about her forcing me to lie the entire way here and I broke up with her about fifteen miles outside of town. It feels like a huge relief, honestly. Like, I somehow managed to escape what could have been the worst five days of my life. She dropped me at a hotel and now I’m here until John can come pick me up, which I’m hoping is sometime tomorrow.” 

“Wow. No offense intended, but it sounds like your girl needs a therapist, not a relationship.” 

“Yeah. I’m inclined to agree with you. I don’t know. The closer we got to this town, the more she changed,” Abby furrowed her brow and ran her finger around the lip of her pint glass, “The girl I fell in love with would have never lied to me about something as huge as coming out. Or ask me to hide myself for her.” 

“Everyone’s got different people inside of them. It’s just a matter of finding someone and actually liking all of their parts. That’s the impossible task,” Riley paused and shrugged, “Besides, I can relate.”

“What do you mean?” 

“If we are exchanging terrible ex stories, I can tell you… the only thing worse than being shoved back in the closet is being forcefully yanked out of it.” 

“I’m not sure I am emotionally prepared for this story,” Abby grimaced, only half kidding. 

“She was my first girlfriend in high school. We started dating. But nobody knew that, obviously. And we would like leave these little love letters in each other’s lockers. And one day, one of her friends found one of the letters. And she asked her what it was about, and my ex, she basically just said that I am gay, and that I wouldn’t leave her alone. And then within a couple days like everybody in school found out, and everybody was so awful to me.” 

“Wow. That is fucked up. I’m really sorry you had to go through that,” Abby slid her hand across the table and rubbed her thumb across Riley’s fingers. She wasn’t an overly affectionate person, but it seemed like the thing to do. Riley seemed to agree because Abby was met with a soft smile from across the table. Abby could feel the full-body blush coming on again and she tried to tamper it down by slowly pulling her hand back and chugging the other half of her beer.

“So the thing that I can relate to is just being in love with somebody that is too afraid to show the world who they are. But you know what I’ve learned? Being scared does not give you an excuse to be an asshole. It’s a little understandable when you’re in high school, but it’s unforgivable when you’re a grown-ass woman.” 

Abby could feel that statement resonating down to her bones. She watched Riley try to shake off the ghost of her past, but could see the damage, the trauma that had been left behind. She wanted to say something clever, to slide her hand across the table again, anything to make the hurt disappear from Riley’s face. 

She watched as Riley took a deep breath, recentered and laughed, “This shit is depressing. Can I get you a real drink? Whiskey, right?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to, you already bought me a shot... “ 

“And you got me a beer, so it’s back to me,” Riley said with a wink as she slid out of the booth. 

Abby watched her walk up to the bar and lean over to get the bartender’s attention. _This is bad. Very, very bad._ Her slight buzz was doing nothing to help the fact that she found her new friend to be incredibly attractive. She watched as Riley leaned against the bar and she swore that Riley was leaning a little further than necessary, and when Riley glanced backwards over her shoulder to see if Abby was watching, her suspicions were confirmed. _Fuck. She is hot. And funny. And smart._

_Are we flirting? Is this flirting? I shouldn’t be flirting with a girl I just met when Harper and I broke up less than twelve hours ago._

Riley slid back into the booth, interrupting Abby’s thoughts, placing two lowball glasses of amber liquid on the wooden table. 

“It’s not Fireball, I promise. This is the good stuff - it’s 12 year Pappy. Not on the menu, if you know, you know.”

“Riley, I’m only an amateur whiskey snob and I know those drinks cost more than my hotel room,” Abby said, looking warily at the glasses and back at Riley.

“That’s why it’s best reserved for special occasions.” 

“What’s the special occasion?” 

“Escaping toxic relationships. Christmas. You finishing your second beer without spilling it. Drinking insanely good whiskey with a pretty girl. Take your pick,” Riley smirked while Abby blushed. They gently tapped their glasses together and Abby took her first sip, savoring the warmth and allowing the multitude of flavors to cross her palate. She couldn’t stop the guttural noise of pleasure that escaped her throat and she didn’t miss the way Riley’s eyes dilated at the sound. 

The energy between them was shifting fast and Abby decides to pump the brakes, just slightly, “I’m never going to live down spilling my beer, am I?” 

"Hey, you’re the one who spilled the drink on me. That's actually a move that straight guys try all the time." 

"Seriously? How does that even work? I'm still mortified. I could never spill a drink on purpose." 

"Dudes are weird. You're asking the wrong person for insight into their psyche." 

"So you've never...?" 

"Nope. Gold star, baby." 

Abby laughed, "Yeah, me too. Gold star all the way. My ex wasn't. She told me I was only the second girl she'd ever been with. I'm not sure if that was good for our relationship or bad. It did always make me worry that she was going to want to, like, sow her wild oats, or something, you know? Like she would always wonder if other girls were better." 

"Hey, I know we just met, but I can already tell you, you're a good one. She's the one who is missing out."

The conversation lulls for a moment and they sit with the silence. Abby’s phone buzzes in her pocket, but she feels no pull to take it out and check her mounting missed texts and calls. She takes another swallow of her drink and gestures with the glass, "How did you get into whiskey?" 

"My Dad, actually. He's always been big into it and when I turned 21 he started to train me. He’s always excited for when I come home because my Mom only drinks wine. I think he has a ten whiskey flight setup for Christmas day, complete with tasting notes and snack pairings.” 

“That’s kind of adorable, actually.” 

Riley shrugged, but Abby could see that she was secretly pleased. 

“What do you normally do for Christmas?” 

“I haven’t had a real Christmas since I was 18. My parents died and honestly, I haven’t really celebrated since. I thought this year was going to be different.” 

“I’m sorry,” Riley replied and Abby could tell she meant it, “Okay then. What were Christmases like when you were a kid? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“You know, I haven’t thought about it in forever. No one ever asks. Most people don’t want to talk about the orphan’s dead parents.” 

“Most people are terrible. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” 

When her parents died, a part of Abby had fractured. The world was no longer the same place. Everyone looked at her a little differently now - a mixture of pity and concern. She never really considered herself an orphan, just an early member of the dead parent’s club. Everyone’s got to join sometime, and if you don’t, well, it’s because you’re gone first. Abby still wasn’t sure which was worse, being left behind or going first. 

But Riley wasn’t looking at her with pity or concern. Abby stared across the booth and felt the intense weight of Riley’s gaze. Abby wasn’t a sharer. She didn’t have a ton of close friends that she regularly opened up to. She had Harper and she had John, and a few people she considered friends. Her life was mostly filled with acquaintances, kept at an arm’s length. 

But something about this girl made her want to open up. Something about her intense eyes and her honest answers and the way the room seemed to bend around her. 

“My parents loved Christmas. They decorated the house from top to bottom. We went and cut down a tree every year and my Dad would let me pick. One year I chose a tree that was double the size of our living room and we had to cut a foot off the top just to get it in the house. The next year I chose a scrawny little Charlie Brown tree because I felt so guilty. I forgot about that…”

Abby tells Riley about growing up outside of Pittsburgh, going into the city to see the Christmas lights, about being the only child of two Carnegie Mellon professors and schooling college freshmen on Foucault when she was in eighth grade. 

Abby notices that Riley is listening. _Really listening._ Not listening to the music coming through the speakers. Not checking her phone. Not so much as glancing at her watch. Abby is fully aware that as far as Riley is concerned, she is the only person in the room. 

For the first time in forever, Abby feels… _seen? Heard?_

“I think what hurts the most is that I thought I was going to have a family again. I thought I’d walk into her house and I’d meet her parents and sisters and they would hug me and I would feel like I was at home. Instead I’m single and spending the night in a hotel. And I’m not even sad about it. I’m not sad about breaking up and losing her… I’m sad about losing the idea of her and the family I could have had.” 

Riley has her hand woven through her own hair, leaning onto the wooden table of the booth, “Not to get all philosophical on you, Abs, but what does family mean to you?” 

Abby is momentarily taken aback by both the new nickname and the question. She pauses and leans back to think. 

Riley leans in and answers her own question, “You know my favorite part about being queer? Chosen family. It doesn’t have to be about blood or marriage or who you’ve known the longest. It’s about connection and making the conscious decision to love someone and be a part of their life. You get to make that call. You get to decide what family means to you.” 

“You’re right. I forget that sometimes. Sometimes I get wrapped up in this heteronormative view of the future... marriage, two kids, a golden retriever,” Abby shrugs. 

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting that.” 

Abby ran her fingertips over the scratches in the wooden tabletop and raised her eyes to meet Riley’s, “What do you want?”

Riley opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of a brass bell ringing out through the bar as the bartender shouted for last call. Two AM. 

_Time to go._

The reality of the world outside their cozy booth at the Oxwood is beginning to bear down and Abby’s mind is reeling with options -

“We should go close our tabs,” Riley says, interrupting Abby’s thoughts and giving them both an easy out. 

They pay their bills and step outside into the cold air, soft snow falling around them, already coating the sidewalk. The light from the neon Oxwood sign flickers once and then shuts off for the night. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me all night. I’m sorry you had to listen to me babble on... You’re really easy to talk to. I bet you get that all the time,” Abby hesitates, scuffing her boot in the snow. 

“I can say, emphatically, that I do not, ‘get that all the time.’ I’m not exactly known for my bedside manner,” Riley grins and Abby swears Main Street is brighter than it was before. 

“Um, I’m really glad I spilled my beer on you.” 

“You definitely saved me from a night of epic boredom - ” 

And before she knew what she was doing, Abby was cutting her off with a kiss. It was hot and fast and they both leaned in a little too hard, noses bumping. Abby’s mind went blank and then her back was against the brick outside the bar, Riley’s mouth attached to hers, tongues colliding, teeth nipping, hands wandering… And minutes _(seconds? hours?)_ later, a siren wail from a few blocks away shatters their reverie. 

Riley is the first to become coherent again and takes a small step back, just far enough to breathe, and for the first time all night, Abby notices her confidence beginning to waver. 

“Look, the only thing I want to do is take you home and make you forget every woman who has ever been lucky enough to touch you… and I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I don’t even believe in this shit, but I think we were supposed to meet tonight. I think somehow, someway, you’re supposed to be in my life. And I think you’re worth way more than a one night stand.” 

Abby laughed softly and nodded, even though her body was telling her to ignore everything Riley was saying and to slip her hand inside Riley’s jeans right there and… “I think you’re right. And I think you’re worth more than a rebound,” she sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to kiss Riley’s still wet lips. Abby pulled out her phone, “Give me your number and I’ll text you.” 

Riley recites her number and Abby types it in her phone, sending a text with _This is Abby from the bar._

“You’re a dork.” 

“Hey, I don’t know how many Abbys you have in there. Or how many girls from the bar there are. I just didn’t want you to forget,” Abby tries to pass it off as a joke, but her heart pounds against her chest anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting you anytime soon, Abby Holland.” 

Abby’s full-body blush is back, and the heat seems to be settling low in her belly, begging her to reconsider, begging her to kiss Riley again and invite her back to her hotel room and… 

“That’s my Lyft,” Riley whispers as a car pulls up beside them, sliding her arms around Abby’s waist in a gentle hug, pressing a quick kiss against Abby’s cold cheek, “I’ll see you around, Abs.”

Abby waited until the Lyft was out of sight before she turned and headed down the road for the short walk back towards her hotel. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and begin to process the events of the day.

_Did that just happen?_

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she took it out, ignoring all of the missed texts and calls from Harper and John. She opened the most recent text message and found a slightly blurry, dark selfie of Riley, obviously taken from the back of the Lyft. _“So you don’t forget.”_ She grinned and returned the favor with a selfie of her beaming at the camera, snow covering her cuffed Carhartt beanie. 

Abby kicked the snow with her boots and exhaled into the cold, watching her breath dissipate. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen tomorrow, but maybe today hadn’t ended up being so bad after all. 

  
  



	2. This is me trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, here's a second part! This is a little different, so I hope you enjoy.

Under the blazers and witty banter, Riley Bennett was sad. The snark and sarcasm were worn like a suit of armor and designed to keep people at arm’s length. 

The sadness had crept in back in high school, when she had gotten slapped with the knowledge that the world is not fair. Best friends betray you. Girlfriends break your heart. People, in general, let you down. 

She got over it. Riley was stronger and tougher because of Harper. Honestly, she didn’t really think of Harper much. Every Christmas and the white elephant party was when Harper took up the most real estate in Riley’s mind, but it was more proximity than actual familiarity at this point. 

Riley had grown up. She had taken four years of small-town gossip, four years of whispered (and yeah, sometimes shouted) slurs and being odd man out and she had grown up. College had taught her that, away from Harper and away from Pennsylvania, she was something else. She was someone else. She could disarm any situation with humor. She could get any girl into bed with a sly smile and a well-timed punchline. 

Med school had taught her that she was lonely. She could still charm any girl into bed, but long nights studying and then overnights at the hospital taught her that coming home to an empty apartment was rough. 

Riley had relationships, sure, but none of them lasted past a few months. The wall she built up around herself was just too thick, too hard. An impenetrable fortress of snark and well whiskey. 

Women were attracted by her sharp tongue and clever banter, but once they realized she had no interest in opening up and that sharp tongue had been turned on them once or twice - they were gone. 

That’s why she surprised herself when she found herself talking to the girl at the bar last night - opening up about pretty much anything the girl asked, telling the girl,  _ Abby, _ the full story of her and Harper. 

She hadn’t really been looking for a hookup when she came to the Oxwood. She was just trying to escape her parents for a little while, maybe make small talk with whoever was around. 

But then that super hot girl had sat on the barstool next to her and she was trying to play it cool, trying to figure out a conversation starter, when that super hot girl had turned into a clumsy gay mess and spilled beer all over her hands and the bar. Talk about giving her an opening. 

Her flirt game was on point, and yeah, she had come on a little strong, but it was more out of boredom than anything else. More just to see if she could. And yeah, Riley could have slept with her. Probably could have taken her into the bathroom and fucked her hard and fast against a stall door, make her beg for release, make her shatter into a million pieces right there in the dirty Oxwood bathroom. She had wanted to, even. But something had stopped her. Somewhere around drink number three she had stopped thinking about fucking Abby in the bathroom and had started thinking about her sad eyes and her hesitation and her dumb clumsy hands and awkward attempts at flirting and  _ what could she do to make the melancholy in those eyes go away forever?  _

_ Fuck. This was so bad.  _

What a fucking gay stereotype she was turning out to be. Falling for a girl literally fresh out of a long term relationship who lived three hundred miles away. 

* * *

“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” her mom says, handing over a mug of steaming black coffee. 

“I was quiet,” Riley smirks behind her coffee cup, remembering her struggle to find her house key, trying her apartment’s key multiple times before realizing her mistake. 

“Did you have a nice night out? Where did you end up?” 

“At the Oxwood, like always.”

“Meet anyone who is going to give me a grandchild?” 

The look on Riley’s face must change because all of a sudden her mom is fully alert and grinning at her.  _ Busted. _

“You met someone!” 

“Mom. Stop. It’s eight AM and I’m slightly hungover and I am not in the mood,” Riley says, attempting to shut down the conversation. 

“Maria, what are you harassing our daughter about?” Her father interrupts, coming into the kitchen and kissing his wife on the cheek. 

“Our daughter stayed out half the night and met someone who is going to give us grandbabies.”

“Wait, Riley met a guy?” A look of confusion crosses his face. 

“NO, Dad. Gross.”

“I didn’t think so… What is your mother going on about?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“She got this dreamy, far off look on her face when I asked her about last night,” her mother teases. 

“Okay, I will say this once and only once. Yes, I went out last night. Yes, I happened to spend the night talking to a woman. No, I did not go home with her. We exchanged numbers, but she lives in Pittsburgh, I live in Baltimore. Maybe she’ll text, maybe she won’t. No one is having babies. End of conversation.” 

Maria and Dan exchange raised eyebrows as Riley takes a gulp of her coffee. 

Riley’s phone buzzes on the countertop, and she and her mom both dive for it at the same time, Maria grabbing it first and reading the new text notification. “It’s from Abby. Is that the name of our future daughter-in-law?”

“Oh my god, Mom. Stop it. I’m a grown woman, leave me alone,” Riley says, snatching her phone away. She opens the text from Abby and is unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face. 

“What does it say?” 

_ Told you I wouldn’t forget. I’m around for a few more hours, any chance you want to show me where to get good pancakes in this town?  _

“She wants to have breakfast,” Riley whispers as she bites her lip and rereads the text message, pointedly ignoring her mother’s celebratory victory dance around the kitchen. 

* * *

Riley is waiting for Abby outside of the diner, trying to decide whether or not to play it cool and aloof or interested. 

When she sees Abby walking down the street, duffle bag on her shoulder, waving shyly, positively  _ beaming…  _ cool and aloof goes out the window and she tries not to trip over her own two feet, tries to remember how to form words and put them together in a sentence. 

“We meet again.” 

_ Ugh, what a terrible line.  _ But Abby laughs anyway, and Riley’s heart beats a little faster. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d respond to my text,” Abby said.

“Oh come on, really?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Things might feel a little different in the light of day.” 

“What about you? How do you feel?” Riley wondered if Abby was having second thoughts about her breakup.

“I feel… good. Really good, actually. Actually... “ Abby pauses and Riley raises an eyebrow, wondering what would come next, “I feel like I made the wrong decision, not taking you home last night.” 

Riley laughs even though every nerve ending in her body is suddenly on fire. “I’m not going to lie, I might have had the same thought. But then I remembered I’m home with my parents and had to play twenty questions this morning. Trust me, you don’t want a piece of that.” 

“I think I’d like to meet your parents, actually.”

Riley is taken aback by what that thought does to her body. Picturing Abby meeting her parents, Abby sharing whiskey notes with her Dad, charming her mother, photos on Christmas morning… She’s quiet a beat too long and Abby tries to backpedal, “Uh, sorry, I promise I’m not actually this needy or clingy.” 

Riley takes a deep breath and relaxes. She can deal with babbling, awkward Abby. She doesn’t know what to do with this sexy, self-assured morning after Abby. Riley was supposed to the cool one, self-confident and relaxed, not hanging on someone’s every word, butterflies in her stomach. 

“I believe I was promised pancakes.”

* * *

Breakfast is easy and they quickly regain their rhythm from the previous night, bantering back and forth and exchanging stories. 

Riley offers Abby a bite of her blueberry pancakes and forces her to chase the fork, syrup smearing everywhere. It takes everything Riley has to not lean across the table and lick the syrup off Abby’s cheek, but she settles for wiping it off with her thumb and licking it off her own skin instead. Her show has its intended effect as she watches Abby swallow hard and her eyes go glassy. 

They fight over who is going to pay the bill and Abby only relents when Riley says, “I’m a doctor and you’re technically still a student.” 

They exit the diner, laughing, shoulders bumping, hands almost touching. 

“Abby!” shouts a voice from across the street, and then suddenly, Harper Caldwell is standing there with the two of them. Riley isn’t even sure that Harper sees her at first, she’s so hyper-focused on Abby. From the outside, Riley puts the pieces together before anyone else does. 

_ Oh no. This is not fucking happening. Of all the lesbians in central Pennsylvania, it had to be this one, really?  _

“Abby, I’ve been calling you,” Harper begins, and then finally looks around and notices Riley, “What are you doing with Riley? How do you two even know each other?” 

“I’m not really ready to talk, Harper. I don’t have anything to say right now,” Abby’s shoulders are squared back, fully prepared for battle. 

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing with Riley?” Harper’s tone is shifting rapidly from soft and worried to shrill and accusatory. 

“Harper and I go way back. We went to school together,” Riley fills in for Abby, gesturing between the two of them. She hopes Abby will get the point, and Riley can actually see the moment that the pieces fall into place for Abby, her eyes widening. 

Abby stands still, and Riley can see her eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. Riley is  _ the _ Riley. She was your first girlfriend,” she says to Harper, her voice going ice-cold, “You outed her.” 

“Look, I don’t know what she’s told you but it’s not the whole story…” Harper is suddenly nervous and Riley can see the panic rising in her eyes. 

“You haven’t even told me how you met! Did you sleep with her? We haven’t even been broken up for a full day and you slept with someone else? With my ex?” 

“First of all, no, I didn’t sleep with her. We just met last night. Second, we’re broken up. It’s none of your business.” 

Riley watches the scene unfold, wishing she could escape but also glued to what’s happening. Harper’s voice is getting louder and shriller with every second and Riley feels the pit in her stomach growing, has to close her eyes and focus on her breathing. 

_ You are not fifteen. You got out.  _

“Abby, please. I’ll tell my parents, I swear, just after Christmas, I’ll tell them everything,” Harper is pleading with Abby, and hearing Harper talk about coming out is just too much. Riley can feel the bile rising in her throat, knows she has to get out of there. 

“You’re completely missing the point. I never asked you to come out for me. I would never do that. All I asked is for you to be honest with me. You’ve been lying to me for six months, Harper.”

“Hey, I’m just going to...” Riley points to a blue Crosstrek in the distance, “come find me after, if you want.” She doesn’t wait for a response, just takes off towards her car. 

Riley unlocks her car and slides into the driver’s seat, taking deep, calming breaths just like she had learned in the five years of therapy it had taken to fix the damage done by Harper and this town. She closes her eyes, tries to relax her muscles, and pictures the Inner Harbor of Baltimore lit up on a summer night. After a few minutes, Riley could feel the panic receding. She adjusted the radio before settling on classic Christmas carols and tried not to focus on the scene unfolding down the street. 

Abby gently tapped on the window and waited for Riley to roll it down, “Hey, any chance you have room for one more?” 

“You sure you don’t want to go with Harper?” 

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Abby doesn’t say anything else, but keeps her eyes locked on Riley’s, “I’m really sorry. I had no idea.” 

Riley nods and jerks her head towards the passenger side. 

“I should have known. There’s only like three homos in this town, the odds were against us,” Riley sighs, “Get in the car, Abs. It’s cold.” 

Riley can feel herself closing off, shutting down and she tries to fight the urge to lash out. 

“I really am sorry. If I had known, I don’t know what I would have done, but…” 

“It’s okay, really,” Riley chews on her lip and looks sideways, pushing through the instinct to reply with a sarcastic quip, “It’s too bad you’re going back to Pittsburgh. There’s a great drag show at the Oxwood on Thursday nights.” 

* * *

Against Riley’s better judgment, she decides to take Abby back to her parent’s house. Abby’s friend John is just now leaving Pittsburgh and hotel checkout was at 11, so they head to the house to kill time. 

As they pull into the drive, Riley says a silent prayer, begging for her parents to behave. 

“Between Harper and bringing a girl home, I am definitely feeling the teenage angst today.”

“Again, I’m really sorry about all of this. You don’t deserve being pulled into all of my drama.”

“Stop apologizing. Although, I bet you’ve been wishing you spilled your beer on someone else last night,” Riley says with a small laugh. 

“I mean, really, what are the odds? It feels almost a little too kismet.”

Riley is inclined to agree, but keeps her mouth shut. She deflects with humor instead, “Okay, I’m warning you in advance, please just ignore anything my parents say. You’re a beautiful woman of child bearing age and they want grandchildren.” 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Abby, I know you have this clumsy puppy dog thing going on right now, but you have to know you are like, literally the hottest woman I have ever seen.” 

That adorable full-body blush from last night is back in full force and Riley can feel her own cheeks heating up. 

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m actually really great with parents.”   
  


* * *

“Hey kiddo, welcome home,” Riley’s Dad calls from the kitchen, poking his head out to say hello, “Oh, hey, you brought a friend.” 

“Hi, Mr… Oh god, I just realized I don’t know your last name,” Abby fumbles, looking to Riley for help. 

“It’s Bennett. But call me Dan,” he says with a pointed look at his daughter, “Can I get you a cup of coffee or something stronger?” 

Abby laughs, “A cup of coffee would be great, actually. Although I hear you have quite the whiskey collection.” 

With that, Dan is off, coffee forgotten, pulling Abby into the other room, desperate to show off his collection. Riley takes the moment to rest her head in her hands, letting the stress of the morning wash over her. 

Maria comes into the kitchen quietly, putting her hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder, “Hey, you okay?” 

“Rough morning.” 

“What happened?” 

“Surprise Caldwell attack. Abby was dating Harper and neither of us realized we had a shared ex until we ran into her after breakfast,” she pauses to sip her coffee, “I’m over it. I am. I just can’t believe it’s almost fifteen years later and Harper is still playing the same games.” 

“Riley, baby, don’t shut down over this, okay?” Maria knows all too well Riley’s ability to push people away. She has watched her daughter cycle through girlfriend after girlfriend, learning little more than their occupation and if she was lucky, their name. 

“I’m trying.”

Dan and Abby come back into the kitchen, Dan holding two bottles of what Riley recognizes to be two very rare, very expensive bottles of Kentucky bourbon. 

Riley raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t it a little early for drinking?” 

“Relax, I’m not getting her drunk, Ri. It’s just a sample.” 

“Yeah,  _ Ri. _ Relax,” Abby says, holding up two tasting glasses. 

“She’s clumsy, don’t let her hold the bottles,” Riley snarks, smirking at Abby, Abby positively beaming back. 

Riley tries to ignore the fact that Abby is the first girl she’s brought home in years and they’re not even dating, not really. But the sight of Abby hanging out with her Dad, ganging up on her with him… it’s doing funny things to her stomach. 

She turns to grab a coffee cup and sees her Mom has gone still and has been watching her intently, eyes brimming with tears. 

“ _ Stop it.  _ Don’t say a word,” Riley threatens, and Maria nods her head, all teasing gone from her eyes. 

“Abby, this is my Mom, Maria.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. You have a beautiful home,” Abby gestures with the whiskey glasses in her hand, “I feel like this is not a very good first impression.” 

“Please. I live with these two. I’m just glad he only grabbed two bottles instead of twelve,” Maria scoffs, “It’s wonderful to meet you. Let me know if I can get you anything that’s not alcoholic.” 

Riley watches as Abby ducks her head, obviously pleased. 

Riley watches as her Dad pours Abby a few tastes, the two commenting on flavor profiles and barrel types, her Mom joining in, laughing at their geeking out over the bottle art. Abby wasn’t kidding - she’s great with parents. 

Riley’s heart and mind are both on fire, warring inside, her mind letting her know this feeling isn’t safe, her heart begging her to let go. This is specifically why she hasn’t brought a woman home since undergrad. 

Abby looks like she belongs right there in her childhood kitchen, like this is her home and she could stand forever with these people, drinking and laughing. The familiarity is overwhelming, threatening to overpower the logical side of her brain. 

If she was smart, she would probably just end it all now, go home to Baltimore and let Abby go back to Pittsburgh and never think of her ever again. The logical side of her brain was telling her to do just that. To walk away and delete Abby's number from her phone, to delete the picture she had sent after the bar last night. Delete the photos she had taken this morning, Abby laughing, covered in maple syrup, smiling shyly, looking like a gay dream she had manifested into existence. 

Watching Abby positively charm her parents, all Riley can see is it ending in heartbreak and tears. She thinks about teenage trauma and the damage it can do, how it can fuck you up and ruin your life even when you’ve put in the work and moved on. 

* * *

Riley’s parents have left them alone, making excuses about last-minute Christmas shopping. The whiskey bottles have been cleared away and Abby’s face is flushed with a slight midday buzz, despite Dan’s promises otherwise. 

“I’m in love with your parents. Do you think they would adopt me?” 

“I’m sure they’re already drawing up the papers.” 

“Are you an only child?” 

“Yeah, it’s just me. I didn’t mind it though.”

“Hey, we got interrupted and you didn’t answer my question last night - do you want a family? Like, kids and stuff?” 

Riley hesitates, trying to decide between blowing off the question and being honest, “I think I do. I think I want that wife and a kid and golden retriever… I’m just not sure I’m capable of it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not easy, Abby. I’m damaged and bitter and on more than one occasion, I have been told that I can be mean.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“I push people away.” 

“Is that what you’re doing right now?” 

“Maybe.” 

_ Yes. Don’t let me do it.  _

“Well, I’ve been told that I’m too nice. Maybe we could, I don’t know, balance each other out.” 

“You don’t know anything about me, not really.” 

"Hey, I'm not asking for anything. I just want to know more about you… I want to know everything about you,” Abby gestures to the empty space between them, “I know you like your whiskey neat and your coffee black and you put more butter on your pancakes than anyone who calls themself a Doctor has a right to... Your parents are good people and they obviously love you. I know you're not a vegetarian because you stole my bacon at the diner. You like IPAs. You live in Baltimore. Do you like the Orioles or are you a Phillies fan? Do you even like baseball? I love baseball. My Dad used to take me to Pirates games. I love hot dogs and yelling at the opposing team. You said you like art, but do you like museums? Would you like it if I spent twenty minutes explaining a single piece of art or would that annoy the shit out of you? What's your favorite movie? I like weird art films. Do you like country music? I fucking love old school country music. That might be a dealbreaker for me, I can’t be with someone who doesn’t appreciate Dolly Parton.”

Abby stops and takes a breath. 

“I'm not asking for forever. I’m not asking for a U-Haul. I literally just got out of a relationship. I'm just asking for a chance to get to know you. I'm asking you to not shut me out, not yet. You said it yourself - we obviously met for a reason. Just give me a chance.”

Silence. 

"I like the orange bird,” Riley says quietly. 

"Yeah? He's cute. He's a good mascot." 

"I don't know anything about baseball." 

"I could teach you." 

"I like weird art films too." 

"I could watch your favorites." 

And Abby is looking at her with such hopeful eyes, optimism practically radiating from her skin,  Riley can’t resist and closes the distance between them, grabbing onto Abby’s button up shirt, pulling her in. “This is going to be such a problem,” Riley whispers and anything else she was going to say is swallowed in Abby’s kiss, Riley leaning full into it, letting the blonde take the lead. Riley closes her eyes and allows herself to exist in the moment, to not worry about broken hearts or even what’s going to happen an hour from now. The kiss is the opposite of the kiss outside the bar - it’s slow and gentle and Abby kisses like they have all the time in the world. Tongues exploring, pressing softly, Abby’s hand in Riley’s hair, scratching gently against her scalp, Riley’s hand creeping under Abby’s undershirt, rubbing circles on her hip bone. Soft moans causing each of them to smile into the kiss. 

Riley could feel Abby’s phone vibrating insistently in her pocket until she finally pulled back, Riley’s lips chasing hers, not ready to let go. 

“Shit. John’s outside. I should probably go, he gets grumpy if he has to wait too long…” 

Riley leans her forehead into Abby’s, deciding to go with the open and honest approach, “I don’t think I want you to go.” 

Abby finds her mouth and kisses her again, a little harder this time, fingers digging into her hips… Riley wonders what it would be like if Abby squeezed a little harder and left bruises on the pale skin there. 

“Can I text you when I get back to Pittsburgh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’ll respond?” 

“Yes, I’ll respond.” 

Lips chasing lips again… Abby’s phone vibrating again against Riley’s thigh. 

Abby grabs her phone from her pocket, types a message, kisses Riley once more, grabs her duffle bag and then, “I’m sorry for all of this. But I’m not sorry I got to meet you. I think spilling that beer was probably the best thing I’ve done all year. I’ll see you around, Ri,” Abby says, echoing Riley’s parting words from last night. 

Riley watches from the doorway, raises a hand and waves at John, who is looking at her suspiciously through the windshield, hears his attempt at a whisper  _ “What the fuck is going on Abby? Who is that?! She is way hotter than Harper...”  _

She watches the car back out of the driveway and thinks of last night and how it had felt to open up to this complete stranger. This complete stranger who spilled beer on her and had sent the last twenty-four hours into a tailspin. This complete stranger who pulled on her heartstrings and made her open up, made her want to not push her away like she’s done with every woman she’s been with in recent memory. 

It’s not going to be easy, but she thinks, for the first time in forever, she wants to give it a try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I have so much love for this tiny little fandom we've created here. 
> 
> Hit me up on twitter/insta to talk about gay things and/or whiskey @jroyster86


	3. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forever's gotta start somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really overwhelmed by everyone who requested more of this verse... this moment is basically my variation on a common theme. I blame sofialindsay.

  
  
Abby had returned to Pittsburgh and moved out of Harper’s apartment almost immediately. She had never been so grateful for the fact that Harper had insisted she get rid of all of her cheap Ikea furniture and just use Harper’s very adult, very expensive furniture instead. Abby had been more than a little annoyed by the whole situation when it happened, but as she had been able to pack her entire life into the back of a rented pickup truck, she had never been more grateful.

She had settled back into her routine easily - teaching classes, office hours, research, pet-sitting. 

With one major addition - talking to Riley. Well, texting, mostly, with frequent phone calls and the occasional FaceTime thrown in. 

Nothing had really changed since they first met at Christmas. They flirted, sure, but there had been no mention of Abby coming to visit Baltimore or Riley visiting Pittsburgh. Abby knew Riley had been initially hesitant about continuing their friendship, so she tried not to push anything too hard. If they were already basically functioning as a long-distance couple, Abby wasn’t really going to question it.

They talked about everything and absolutely nothing. Riley would send whatever hospital memes were circulating among the residents and attempt to explain the humor to Abby. Abby, in turn, would send Riley obscure journal articles she was using to plan for her dissertation defense, and was always thrilled when Riley would bring them up in conversation. 

Sometimes their texts would be completely inane: 

_What should I have for dinner?_

_I just saw a dog that looked like you._

_Should I buy this thing at Target?_

_I haven’t listened to anything but Taylor Swift for two weeks._

Sometimes it wasn’t inane. Sometimes their texts were deep and open and as close as two people can be who are 248 miles apart. Normally those conversations were after dark, late at night, after a couple of beers or a tumbler of whiskey. They discussed philosophy and theory; politics and gender; and more than once Abby went on a whiskey-fueled tangent about Plato, soulmates, and the origin of love.

_A: Plato said love would “heal the wound of human nature”... do you think that’s right? When you find your other half, your soul heals?_

_R: It feels a little too Hallmark movie of the week for me._

_A: Sure, it’s become cliche and commercialized… but, come on. You don’t believe in soulmates?_

_R: No, not particularly. Not in some divine way. I think we recognize commonalities, and go from there. My problem with the idea of soulmates is your perfect partner being handed to you gift wrapped. Life and love are far too complex for that._

_A: Wow, Riley. Not everything has to be complicated. Somethings are meant to be easy._

Sometimes if Abby was feeling silly, she would take a photo of her elbow or knee or other random body part and text it to Riley with an imaginary complaint. One particularly memorable hungover morning, she texted a photo of just her bleached blonde hair and said _My hair hurts. Is that normal?_

Occasionally, Abby would text and pretend like Riley was in the other room. _I’m going to Starbucks, want me to get you a Frapp?_ or _What kind of pizza should we order tonight?_

It was silly but there was a kind of domestic simplicity in those questions that she enjoyed. Like she could imagine a life with Riley. She could imagine a life where she’d come home from work and Riley would be asleep on the couch or standing in the kitchen cooking dinner in a see-through tank top and boxers. 

Depending on Riley’s mood, the responses were either playful or straightforward. Abby could tell how long a shift had been and gauge Riley’s exhaustion level based on her response. It varied from _Whatever you want as long as it’s thin crust, extra pepperoni, no mushrooms_ to _I haven’t eaten real food in forty-eight hours, don’t tease me like that._

Riley would always play along with Abby’s fantasy hypotheticals, but she would rarely initiate. 

One night, however, Riley had a rough shift. She had been called in at the last minute and ended up assisting in a particularly devastating trauma surgery. Abby got the text while she was halfway through a bottle of wine on her couch. 

_I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t close my eyes. Can you just hold me when I get home?_

Abby had been taken aback by the directness of the text. It was almost talking about what they explicitly never talked about. She closed her eyes and hit respond, hoping she was taking the right approach. 

_Of course, babe. All night long. Whatever you need._

Riley had then changed the subject, asking for cute animal photos and Abby had responded immediately with a nearly endless stream of photos of baby raccoons, ducks, and kittens. Abby had also checked the prices on direct flights to Baltimore, but no one really needed to know that. 

Instead, the next morning Abby sent a simple text. 

_A: Your apartment buzzer is going to ring in about fifteen minutes. Answer it._

_R: Am I about to be murdered?_

_A: It’s always a possibility. But no, answer the buzzer when it rings._

Abby had waited, hoping her plan went off with no problems. 

_R: You did not have a giant bag of breakfast food just delivered to my apartment._

_A: Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. I can neither confirm nor deny anything._

_R: Thanks._

_A: I would make you breakfast if I could. DoorDash is the next best thing._

_R: Why are you the actual best person I’ve ever met?_

Riley had attached a selfie of herself holding up a breakfast sandwich with an enormous iced coffee sitting in front of her. Abby had seen the exhaustion in her eyes, still bloodshot even after nine hours of sleep. 

If asked later, Abby was pretty sure that was the moment she fell in love with Riley. 

_A: Just take care of yourself, okay?_

* * *

A week after Abby had breakfast delivered for Riley, they were both FaceTiming, arguing about who’s turn it was to choose a movie. “I picked last Tuesday, it’s your turn.” 

“No, you didn’t. We watched that documentary and that was my choice,” Riley snarked back. 

“No, it wasn’t! I told you about the documentary after one of my students mentioned it!” 

“Yeah, but I already knew about it from Matt at work.” 

“You’re just making that up because you don’t like it when I know about things before you!” 

“That is absolutely not… okay, maybe you’re right,” Riley admitted through gritted teeth. 

“You’re so pretentious,” Abby laughed, shaking her head. 

Riley shrugged in agreement, her eyes laughing. She paused, took a breath, and then spoke, “Abby, what are we doing here?” 

“Um, I thought we were going to watch a movie. Are you not in the mood?” 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Abby began to panic. _What the hell is happening right now?_

“It’s Friday night. It’s my first Friday night off this month. I should be on a date or at a bar… Instead, I’m sitting on my couch in pajama pants.” 

Abby felt sick to her stomach. “Hey, that’s not fair, if you got asked out, you totally could have gone,” she paused, “We’re not dating. You don’t need my permission.” 

“That’s the problem.” 

“What’s the problem?” 

Abby watched as Riley bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. She could practically see the wheels turning in Riley’s head and she watched as Riley seemed to come to a decision. 

“I know we’ve been avoiding this conversation for months, but maybe it’s time to actually talk about what we’re doing here?” 

Abby could feel her heart begin to pound. _Shit. This is it._

“Okay. Let’s talk about this then. You start.” 

Abby chewed on her lip and stared into the phone, trying desperately to get a read on Riley’s worried expression. 

Riley ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth and then spoke. “I don’t want to just be best friends who made out a few times. I don’t know if that’s what you want from us, but it’s not what I want.”

Abby’s eyes grew wide, “Okay. That’s not what I want either.” 

“I don’t know if you’re looking for a rebound or a casual thing or -” 

“I’m not looking for a rebound. Or anything casual,” Abby said cautiously, refusing to get her hopes up. 

“I know I have no right to ask, but have you been talking to or… sleeping with anyone else?” 

Abby could see embarrassment flash across Riley’s face as she asked the question. 

“You know I haven’t, Ri. I work, I sleep, I eat, I talk to John, I talk to you,” she swallowed, “Have you been dating?” 

“I don’t think I’ve even looked at another woman since I met you,” Riley whispered, looking everywhere but at her phone. 

“I’ve been waiting on you, Riley. I fell for you the night we met. I didn’t want to rush you into anything.” 

Abby watched as Riley’s expression softened. 

“I’m ready for whatever you’re willing to give me? I know I was scared and I know I tried to push you away when we met, but I am on board now. I am all in. And I’m kind of hoping you are too.” 

“I’m all in,” Abby grinned at her phone, willing the pixelated image to come to life in front of her, “I wish we weren’t having this conversation on FaceTime, because I’d really like to kiss you now.” 

Riley smirked in response, her confidence returning. “So, this is it? It’s really that simple? We’re a thing now?”

“I’d like to be, if that’s okay with you,” Abby said with an easy smile, “I tried to tell you before. Not everything has to be complicated. Somethings can be easy.” 

Riley laughed and nodded, “Being away from you is the opposite of easy… You really think we can make this work?”

Abby paused and grinned at her phone. 

“Riley, I’m pretty sure it’s already working.”


	4. A letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is less of a fully-fledged chapter and more of an interlude/writing exercise? I'll probably try and post these small moments as they come.

Dear Riley,

Hi. How are you? I’m not so great at writing letters, but I figured I would give it a try.

It’s Saturday and I’m at Jitters, which is a great local coffee shop. I come here sometimes when the silence of my apartment gets to be too much. They don’t mind if I stay all day because I probably order more than their average customer. I start the day with an iced nitro coffee with almond milk, a Nutella crepe and a banana nut muffin. I’ll have a panini and iced tea for lunch and sometimes if I get really into my work and end up staying later, I’ll order a lemon cookie and hot coffee.

Today I am supposed to be grading papers, but I’m not really feeling it.

So instead, I’m writing to you. I miss you. Sometimes, I feel like you are right beside me and at other points, all I can feel is the distance. It feels like you are a world away instead of hours. I know we had planned to wait until you have more than one day off for me to come visit, but I’m not sure that’s going to work for me. I was just checking flights from Pittsburgh to Baltimore and had to stop myself from booking one. What would you do if I just showed up on your doorstep next weekend? Is that actually romantic or is it only romantic in romcoms where the characters don’t have jobs and responsibilities? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

What I do know is that sometimes it feels like I have known you for my whole life instead of five months. I think about who I was at this point last year and she feels like a stranger. Last year I had felt so certain about the direction of my life and then one night drinking with you turned my world on its axis. One beer and suddenly everything I thought I knew was wrong. Everything I thought I had wanted no longer mattered. The only thing I wanted was to keep you talking to me, to keep you laughing.

And then we were texting, and every text from you seemed like a miracle. Every bit of information was immediately memorized and filed in the back of my brain. Cataloged and ready to be recalled at any moment. The subject heading is “Riley Bennett” and there is an entire subheading for “Riley’s Favorites” with narrower search terms like “animals, candy, beer, whiskey”. There’s even a subheading entirely devoted to your smile when you answer my FaceTime call. There’s probably even some meta-data cataloging the date, time and location (yours and mine) of each of those smiles. My personal favorite is when you’ve just woken up and you’re still in bed. Your hair is a mess and your eyes are still half-closed but you answer the call anyway, and I know I’m special because not everyone gets to see Doctor Bennett undone like that… and your sleepy smile sets my heart on fire every time.

Speaking of FaceTime, that’s how we became us, and everything made sense. You let me in and I am so grateful for that. When you said you wanted to talk about what we were doing, I was so sure I was going to lose you. You shocked the hell out of me when you said you were ready. Up until that moment, I was certain this was going to end in my heart getting broken. You might not have realized this yet, but I’m a little sensitive (I know you’re laughing, Riley, you could at least let me pretend to be tough). But I thought for sure my sensitive little heart was going to end up broken… and instead of heartbreak, I got you. Everything came together and I have been feeling whole for the first time in years. Every phone call, every text, I feel like I am putting myself back together. I feel like you are helping put me back together.

Every stupid inside joke. Every selfie. Every song you tell me to download or YouTube video you send me to watch. Every new recipe, every photo of your walk to work. Every time you call me babe (I can’t begin to tell you what that does to me). It’s all making me whole again.

I think about us being together, about what I’m going to do when I see you again. Do I kiss you in the airport or the car or wait til we are back at your apartment? I don’t know how you feel about PDA, but I’m not a huge fan. But something tells me I’m not going to be able to stop myself from kissing you when I see you in the airport, whether it’s BWI or PIT or somewhere else. I also think about what I’m going to do after kissing you... probably way too often. My hands tangled in your hair, your hands on my hips, my lips on your neck… Sometimes I think about it in the middle of lectures or in the middle of office hours and I completely lose my train of thought. Definitely late at night or when I’m making dinner. When we’re talking on the phone and you accuse me of falling asleep, I’m not. I’m just distracted and thinking about all of the things I’m going to do to you once we are in the same place again.

Home has been an abstract idea for so long. I’ve moved so many times, had so many roommates. I can pack my life in an afternoon and really, everything I value fits in a backpack. But I am so tired of that existence. I am tired of month-to-month rentals and disposable furniture. I am hoping that the end of my PhD program means the end of student life and I can put down roots somewhere… somewhere with you? The idea of one day being able to come home to you is something that I think about often. Is it too early to say that? We’re gay, so probably not, but I hope that doesn’t scare you off. Sometimes I think you are thinking it too, but maybe I’m making things up. If I am pushing you too hard or moving too fast, feel free to just ignore everything that comes out of my mouth. Or pen, as it were.

Anyway, I should probably get back to grading papers. I just wanted to say hi and let you know, in all forms of media, that I am thinking about you, pretty much every hour of every day. I can’t wait until the next time I see you, whenever that may be.

Yours,

Abby


End file.
